


Valley Forge

by MajorEnglishEsquire



Series: Prompt Responses [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Minor Character Death, Sad, Season/Series 09, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 16:16:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1272925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajorEnglishEsquire/pseuds/MajorEnglishEsquire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://fled-is-that-music.tumblr.com/">goto-fled-is-that-music</a>: Dean and Cas having an emotional confession while burning bones/generally ending a hunt?</p>
<p>Very light Dean/Cas. Takes place in late S09.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Valley Forge

Cas has never asked for this before.  
Still, Dean helps.

There are seven angels following Castiel around these days. When Dean is near, they don't hang around. They ask for their orders, are politely reminded there _are no orders to give_ , and then they calmly discuss their next moves with Cas. When they come up with a plan, all but one disappear.

Well, not _disappear_. More, _drive off_ , in pairs.

Eniel stays behind, blinking over his sister's corpse.

Cas puts a hand on his shoulder and asks, hesitant, "Would you like to stay and help me?"

Angels have a hair trigger when it comes to what they consider pathetic, filthy human rituals. But anger doesn't bloom on Eniel's face. He still only stares.

One glance at Dean is enough to shake him out of it.

"No," his voice is a little broken, but his head shake is firm.

"I'll drive to Savannah and pick up the--"

"On your own?" Cas asks concerned. "If you wait a while, I'll come with--"

"No," Eniel repeats, and his eyes don't dip down to the dead woman again. Neither do they stray across the narrow field to Dean, radiating his sinister _whatever it is_ that Cain's mark has given him.

"I'll call you from my destination. I won't pursue on my own. I remember the rules."

"Do you?" Cas challenges lightly.

"Never on your own. You never hunt on your own," Eniel repeats, dutiful. The others have said the same, echoed it off each other in moments of stress. Dean's heard them. He imagines it's an exact parrot of the words Cas originally used to lay down the law with them when they first started following him around.

Cas seems visibly relieved that Eniel is taking this rule to heart, but lets his brother's shoulders go with lingering concern.

Dean clears his throat, but only Cas looks to him. "Last time Sam called he was 'round about Richmond, Virginia. You give him Sam's number. If he runs into trouble, he should call."

Cas nods. "That's a good idea, Eniel. Your phone?"

Eniel digs it from the pocket of his battle-battered suit. Castiel programs Sam's number into the phone and then walks Eniel back through the trees, to give him his own car.

Cas will come back. He'll need to ride out again with Dean.

That's nice, at least. Someone who can stand sharing space with him at all right now. That's a goddamn novelty.

Dean brought a bag. He circles back around to it, now. He pulls out a clean sheet, rope, an axe.

The sheet goes over the angel's body. She looks far from peaceful, blood spattered all around her mouth. Judging from the messy gut wound, she died in agony before the light burst out of her. He chews his lip for a second and decides that Cas asked for his help here because he wanted to honor the woman. The woman and the angel. He would want to dress her himself. Dean leaves her to rest.

He starts gathering timber for a pyre.

Dean's in and out of the clearing three times before Cas reappears, alone. He stays only long enough to watch Cas kneel by the body and start to wrap her up before he ducks back into the dark for more wood.

Cas joins him in gathering it, after a while. They work in silence until they have her laid out, ready for the end, wrapped and respected like a hunter. At least as much respect as a hunter deserves in this life.

They stand in the dark, in the early morning hours, now, and just watch her be still.

Dean's determined that Cas isn't about to say anything aloud. So, he takes his lighter from his pocket and readies it against a fuel-soaked branch.

Castiel's fingers are light, gentle as they pull each object from Dean's hands a moment later.

He lights it.  
They are still. They watch her turn to ash.

This time of night, this smell. They're sorrowful. Dean has stood watch over all too many of these things.

"I hope you don't find this disrespectful," Cas says, after a while.

Dean shakes his head. "No."

"She asked to follow me. They each did. They've been with me for weeks, now. Asking for orders," he says, a little rueful. "They fight bravely and now, of all the times I've known angels to do so, they fight for the right reasons."

Dean knows what this is, in lieu of prayer. In the absence of Dean's own emotional connection to the deceased. He lets Cas talk.

"Not that there weren't good reasons before. There weren't _these_ reasons. You don't know how much it means to me that they asked. You don't know how badly I didn't want them to ask."

Dean has to object to that. "Nah, I think I do." He gets it. He really does. Cas's decisions...? Oh, man. And Dean knows what it's like to simultaneously want and _not_ want to be alone because of the decisions you've made. He's kind of glad Sam finally gave up on trying to drill the message into him with his glacial silence and all that disgust in his eyes.

Allowing Sam to drive off and hunt on his own, give him the chance to get near death all by himself. It had seemed a kindness. Which way, he still doesn't know, but continues to feel it.

Still hopes Sam will work it out of his system.

Cas will ask, as he always does, why Sam isn't with him, eventually. Cas watches over Dean's shoulder when he's alone, like he can see that phantom limb, see what Dean's turning to when he turns to address someone who's not standing at his elbow or sliding into the seat next to him.

He has two thoughts in quick succession:  
Will Sam stop to consider how he's brushing Cas off through his avoidance of Dean?  
and  
That this moment isn't about Sam or Sam and Dean and their bullcrap. This is about

"What was her name?" Dean asks.

"Michelle Tucker to you," Cas qualifies. "Kehethel to me."

Dean sighs but doesn't comment on the distinction, the exclusion. He knows Cas is mourning both of them. Cas is just that kinda guy. He's only a little angry right now and it will pass. Cas isn't great about holding onto his wrath right now.

It's sadness he's got a grip on.

Dean wonders if he can do this, put aside his problems with his brother enough to take on a little of Cas's and let him keep going. The more time passes, with him and Cas, the more he's inclined to demand that of himself. To be a pillar for Cas to lean against, a place to dump his problems. Sam doesn't want this extended to him anymore, but it's a part of who Dean is and he feels his heart swelling to share the load of this mourning, even as he wants to curl tighter into himself. To not share what hurts and not be hurt, himself, any further.

Cas steps closer after a while, just a half step towards the towering heat of it all, and says words like he's required to say them.

He recalls Kehethel's exploits, states her name and rank and garrison, speaks of the battles she won, the evils she demolished, right up until their fight this afternoon. She and Eniel had been the first to show up at the stone formation nearby, a geologic source of some mystical power. They'd been greeted by ambush before the others could arrive to help.

The way Eniel looked so haunted makes sense to Dean now. The way he'd gone berserk on those who had come to harm him and his sister had made them retreat.

A victory, but not. Not for Cas and his scattered little mini-garrison.

When Cas has no more formal words to say, in the space where Dean's sure the air would otherwise be filled with prayer, he steps up a little and pulls at Cas's shoulder.

He doesn't expect Cas to turn into him so fully, to dive into Dean's arms like he does. He can't mind, though. He brings his arms up around Cas and tucks them together and relishes the feeling of being strong enough to hold Cas up, allowing him to let it out and ache. Cas shudders in his arms a little.

He says, into Dean's jacket, "I want to save them, even the ones who hurt me. I have to. It's my job. They don't want my help and I'm going to save them, Dean. They're going to end me and I'm going to save them anyway."

Boy, does Dean ever hear that shit. Yeah. Yes, he knows exactly what that's like.

Gonna make some bad decisions. Gonna save some people who aim to fight you the whole way, who will not be grateful for it. Will not love you for your methods or means.

They're all Sam to him, Dean realizes. He saved them from Raphael and at an unjustified price. Just like he'd saved Sam, at an untenable price, crossing the lines of reason and good faith.

Perhaps they will be purged from this world, at last, if they go down swinging at Abaddon and Metatron. Maybe they'll eat dirt once and for all. Maybe it's not actually their job to fight these final fights.

But, you see, Cas has this freedom, this absolute autonomy from all the factions of Heaven. And Dean, he has this _mark_ on his arm.

If it wasn't their job in the first place, they fought for the honor of dying bloodiest. They will, now. They'll end this, and nobody will like it and they don't have to. If it makes them the villains, they'll die at the end, as is right and proper.

The radiating heat blankets the expanse of Cas's back and Dean's hands where they hold him tight.

_If_ they make it, he can be Sam's brother again. He can say he is sorry, _show_ he is sorry, and learn to give Sam the distance he needs. He can stand back and let Sam go find his place in the world.

He doesn't know what Cas will do for himself, if he survives. Maybe they'll be able to discuss it if they both make it through.

Right now, though, they have the freedom to charge at this problem alone, Bonnie and Clyde it, leave their families safe behind, and strap themselves for battle alone. If anyone objects, let them intervene.

Gonna go make some bad decisions.

"How you feel about taking shotgun?" Dean asks in Cas's ear.

Castiel pulls back, at last, and assesses Dean, almost head to toe.  
He nods.

They leave Michelle and Kehethel behind; they go through the trees, seek the gleam of the moonlight off the Impala's black frame.


End file.
